


Brand New Box of Matches

by silkstocking



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Boot Worship, F/F, Mommy Kink, Yuleporn, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkstocking/pseuds/silkstocking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fish wants Liza to earn her place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brand New Box of Matches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liviania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviania/gifts).



> Happy holidays Liviania! I took your Fish/Liza suggestion and ran with it.

Fish leans back in her chair and closes her eyes, stretching her legs out in front of her with a sigh of pleasure. The ice in her glass clinks against the edge as she brings it to her lips and takes a slow sip. The club is quiet now and Fish is alone with her drink and her thoughts. It’s good to get business out of the way. Leaves more time for pleasure.

“Baby girl,” Fish croons and her secret weapon appears from the shadows at the side of the stage, her hair framing her pale face and her full lips arranged in a pout like a china doll. Fish tilts her chin up, just slightly, and the girl–Liza–understands. She crosses the room and kneels beside the chair, puts her dark head on Fish’s knee and looks up at her with those big blue eyes. Yes, this one is going to do just nicely.

“Mama,” she says, sighs it into the fabric of Fish’s skirt, and that _won’t_ do. Fish grabs the girl's chin, digs her perfectly manicured fingernails into the sweet, plump flesh of the girl’s face and forces her head upwards.

“Didn’t I tell you that you had to earn that?” she says, razor-sharp, cataloguing the flash of fear in the girl’s eyes with not a little satisfaction. “If you want me to be your mama, baby girl, you better show me that you mean it.” Her nails leave little half-moon welts in that porcelain skin when she pushes her away, making her sprawl onto her back on the floor at Fish’s feet. She looks down at Liza’s prone form, takes in the contrast of her pale legs against the deep red leather of Fish’s tightly-laced boots. Now, that could be interesting.

Fish lifts one leather-clad calf and runs the pointed tip of her boot slowly, lovingly up that tight young body until the point of the stiletto is pressed against the soft, vulnerable skin of her throat. The girl’s breath hitches, catches but she gives no other outward sign and that’s good. That’s how Fish needs her to be. She presses down, just a little, until Liza coughs and flinches away.

Fish draws her foot back with a smirk. “I think it’s time this boot was cleaned.”

There’s something in Liza’s eyes like she’s going to say no; it’s just a flash and gone almost immediately. Fish nods to herself. That’s good too, that mask. She’ll need it if they’re going to pull off this thing with Falcone.

Liza gets on her hands and knees, bodycon dress hitched up around her waist. If someone was behind her now, they’d get a free show; perhaps next time Fish will put her on display. She glances up at Fish, just once, before she presses her lips to the supple red leather. It’s tentative, hesitant. It’s not what she asked for.

Fish makes a small noise of disapproval in the back of her throat. “I thought you wanted to earn it,” she says, frowning down at her. “You're going to need to try harder than that, girl. I want to be able to see my face in this.”

Liza flicks her little pink tongue out, licks a wet stripe from the toe of the boot to the laces, her eyes locked on Fish’s the whole time.

“That’s better,” Fish says, and Liza smiles.

After that, she's more enthusiastic, laving her tongue over the seams while she looks up at Fish coyly through her lashes. That's a good trick to use on men, Fish thinks approvingly. It will work on Falcone. _Seduce me_ , Fish had said, and that’s what she’s doing. Fish watches her with a detached kind of satisfaction.

Eventually, Fish lifts her foot, forcing the girl to sit back on her knees. She runs the tip of her boot back up the girl’s body again, sensually, and trails the heel up, up, lets the tip of it rest against those full lips. The girl makes a soft, half-choked sound and Fish takes advantage of it, pushes the heel between her lips. She opens her mouth obligingly, hollows her cheeks and sucks.

“There we go,” Fish murmurs, and angles her leg to force more of the heel into that plush pink mouth. “There we go, baby girl. You’re doing so good.” Liza lets her eyes flutter shut, moans quietly, gives every indication of enjoyment. It warms a mother’s heart to see it even if it is all smoke and mirrors. She sucks like she knows her way around a dick, at least, and that’s good enough.

“I think you’ve earned a reward from mama,” Fish says when she’s seen enough, and takes back her heel. “Turn around, baby girl. On your hands and knees for me.”

Liza shivers. She’s not wearing underwear, so when she turns and shoves her ass in the air, Fish can see everything: her swollen clit, her labia flushed pink with arousal and glistening wet. Fish lifts her foot and presses the pointed toe of her boot against that pretty pussy. The girl hisses and writhes, and Fish keeps perfectly still and lets her.

“Please,” Liza grits out, “please mama, please. I need–fuck–please.”

Fish says, “That's it, baby girl, mama’s got you,” and it won’t take much now. She moves her toes in slow, lazy circles and lets Liza do most of the work, lets her press back shamelessly and take her own pleasure from Fish. That’s a good lesson to teach your baby girl, Fish thinks. Nobody gets anything in this world that they didn’t make for their own damn self.

It’s not long before she shudders and comes, gasping out a string of curses and dropping forward onto her forearms. Fish taps her fingernails against the arm of her chair as she watches Liza’s thighs flex and her legs spasm. She’s not a mean mama so she gives her a few seconds to recover before she lifts up her boot, inspects the damage and says, “Well. Looks like you’re going to have to clean this all over again.”


End file.
